Blowin' in the Wind

' How many times must a man look up, before he can see the sky?'  - Bob Dylan

Colorado, Rocky mountain high!

Wyoming has been a bit of a blur. Since crossing into Wyoming it's taken us 8 days to cross into our 4th US state, Colorado.

A couple of huge cycling days made the full state traverse easier, but the going has gotten tough over the last few days. The first big day came when we rode from Lava Mountain Lodge to Pinedale. A whopper at 154 kms, which included the climb up and over Union Pass. Just before we got to the pass we chatted to a local farmer. He told us that just down the road someone was mauled and killed by a grizzly bear. Cycling up hill at 7 kms an hour with this in the back of your head isn't ideal, especially when every rock, shrub and bush looks like a bear. After the summiting the pass we descended slowly along a plateau and stopped for the most rewarding peanut butter sarmies ever.

The first of many golden-yellow Aspen trees lined the route and we eventually came to the tar road that would lead us to Pinedale, another 80 kms away. The peleton held together for the haul to Pinedale and to the first restaurant. The sign outside that read 'PIZZA BUFFET' was like a sign from heaven. I think we finished 3 litres of Pepsi before the first piece of pizza hit the table and the effects of dehaydration subsided.

After leaving Pinedale the landscape changed again and we found ourselves in a Karoo-like desert. A definite sign we were heading into the Great Basin of Wyoming renowed for its flat riding and winds. We got just that.

Records were smashed on our second big day of cycling. We managed to leave Little Sandy Creek relatively early, but by lunch we had only completed 50 kms, taking us through South Pass City and Atlantic City. The people who named these tiny towns were probably hoping for bigger things. The climb out of Atlantic City was our last for some time. Then it all came together. A potent tailwind and flat hard gravel helped us put another 100 kms behind us by sunset. An indada was held over a couple of naartjies and by the time the sun had slipped behind the plains the decision was made to push on as long as the conditions played in our favour. The 'cooking in the cave' headlamps lead the way as we dodged rabbits and potholes for the next 40 kms. We staggered into the campsite at 10:30 pm after 190 kms and over 12 hours in the saddle. Not much was said before it was tents up and lights out.

Rawlins was the next stop. An 87 km stretch of highway provided us with the most mind-numbingly boring ride of the whole route, but we got there safe and sound.

The last two days have been the toughest yet. Leaving Rawlins we hit a gale force headwind that didn't let up for the whole 87 kms of riding. I really hope that that was the last time I ever have to pedal downhill. We hit the forest and got out of the wind under Aspen trees. The golden canopy held the elements back that night and we hoped for better conditions the next morning. We packed up our tents and kit under what we thought were unassuming clouds. I've never seen a storm roll in so quickly. Lightning, thunder and rain all came down at once and one of us was caught short going about the normal morning routine out in the bushes.

We were on the bikes as fast as possible. After a series of muddy uphills we were covered and the rain was not letting up. We thought by reaching the tar road we were in for a better time. The fast downhills froze us. It was the coldest we've been all trip and easily the coldest I've ever been. We stopped every now and then and laughed about how cold we were. I think hysteria had set in. Sanity prevailed and we got to Ladder Ranch fighting of hyperthermia. The owner Eamon let us in and got the coffee going. That was us done for the day. Keith's, now famous, soup de jour (4 cubes of beef stock) was later on the boil in our own cabin and we were very glad to have the comforts of warm beds and a hot shower again. Some of us got more comfortable than others.

You Can't Touch This

'Hammer Time'  - MC Hammer

Hammers have been dropped left, right and centre and since the last post we have somehow covered 620 kms. We've made it out of the mountains of Montana, the rolling plains of Idaho and are now sitting by a fire in the Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming. According to our GPS we have about 2650 kms to go to make it to the border of Mexico and the boys have planned a few big days of cycling.

Here's a short recap.

We left Butte with a goal of getting over 100 kms done and getting as close to Elkhorn Springs as possible, but as usual we had a climb to start our day off. It wasn't as bad as what we've previously come up against, but we were tearing off layers quickly. We met up with Christy and Pete at our 6th Divide crossing and got them in a few pics. As an Aussie and Kiwi couple, who are attempting the Divide for the second time, there has been no shortage of banter between us and I'm very sure that if they catch up to us the first bit of convo will be about the Boks loss to the All Blacks.

Our back wheels had lives of there own as we rode on tracks that felt as if they were made of marbles. There have been no casualties yet but there have been a few close calls. Cam split up from Keith and I and headed towards Fleecer Ridge. Keith and I felt great about our decision not to go over the ridge as we were soon doing 30 kms and hour with the help of a strong tail wind. We made up some serious time and even had enough to stop in at Dewey's finest for a couple of coolies. We met up with Cam in Wise River and eventually pulled into Petergill campsite after 99.7 kms. Mission accomplished.

Elkhorn Springs was only 40 kms away so we planned to get there and take a half day off. Probably our best idea to date.However, getting there would be a bit tougher than expected. On the first climb the snow started pelting down and soon we had every part of our bodies covered up. It was a long and cold 40 kms. Elkhorn Springs came into sight and the smiles on our faces began to broaden. With a huge log cabin and hot springs pretty much to ourselves we felt like we could never leave.

Hot springs and ice creams were the order of the day and our legs could finally get some respite. The boys from Colorado, Caleb and Sam, caught up to us that evening and pulled into the cabin. We shared a couple of beers and bowls of chilli.

Waking up to an inch of snow in the morning didn't do much for morale, but we were soon saddled and layered up. The cold went right through us and within 2 kms we were putting on more layers. We lost Keith for a bit on the downhill and expected to find a frozen icecube flying passed us, but instead the beers the night before had fueled the fire he we went into 5 gear up the hills. Silence soon fell upon the team as we pushed into a freezing headwind. The only way to keep warm was to keep cycling. After 135 kms we set up camp next to Sheep Creek, just next to Antarctica. We thought we were in the clear. I woke up at 3 am and couldn't feel my toes. I looked up and thought I could see the stars inside the tent. I rolled over and had a look at Keith to check if he hadn't gone black from frostbite. He almost had. There was ice lining his beard, sleeping bag and the entire inside of the tent. We survived to 7:30 am when our neighbour walked over to our tents and asked if we were ok. He got a couple murmurs as a response. He then said he came over to check on us as it had gotten to 15 degrees fahrenheit that morning. You do the conversion.

The biking that day took us into Dell, population 35, and to the Calf-A restuarant that served up the biggest burgers of our lives. The meat sweats were going to follow us all the way to the end of the days cycling. We passed through Lima and hit another strong headwind and it kept with us for the next 70 kms as we rolled over the plains of lower Montana. The side of the road was our campsite that night and again it went to below 0. Even beefnoodlebeans couldn't keep the tent warm that night.

Big springs was the next destination and finally the wind died and the sun was blasting. We crossed over into the Potato State, Idaho, after an easy climb. We were very glad to see the back of Montana. Another 90 kms was under our belts when we got to Big Springs and the PBRs were out in a heartbeat. The solar shower was enjoyed by all and our bush cubicle was a win.

We were up against a tough 40 kms of ex-railway line the next day. It was covered in soft gravel and I thought I wouldn't make it 2 kms without going a over t. We made it without any hassle and the road soon cleared. The Warm River was running alongside us and lunch was on the cards. Half a peanut butter jar and a whole loaf of bread were whacked and Keith was at it again with his circus tricks. The scenery was incredible as we descended down into Warm River campsite. We were told that the river was thick with trout and as the sun went behind the mountains Keith and I were out of sight up the river.  The first on the line was a littlin but the second broke all kinds records on the tour. My $30 rod and reel could barely take the pressure, but I got him to the bank eventually. The trout slayer was back and the boys were having trout for pudding!

Today took us into Wyoming, passed Yellowstone and into the Grand Teton National Park. Since knowing about this area of the US I've wanted to see it and riding through the forest that lined rivers and grassy plains was very special. It felt as though a grizzly could pop out at any second, which probably added to the excitement,  but unfortunately the bears weren't up to tango with us today. Colten Bay was our stop and again the PBRs were out and the boys were loving it.

Ice Ice Baby

'Something grabs a hold of me tightly, flow like a harpoon daily and nightly' - Vanilla Ice

Montana can't make up its mind with the weather. We left Bigfork with the sun on our faces thinking we'd dodged the cold front. Little did we know it was creeping up behind us. We eased into our first day back on the bikes with a 2000 foot climb which quickly woke our legs up. It was definitely a bit of a shock to the system. That night we camped next to Woodward river under clear skies. The clear skies were still there after we crawled out of our tents but after our first climb we hit the teeth of the cold front and the temperature plummeted. Wrapped in most of our clothes we rode in rain for the last 30 kms of the day and finally pulled off the track to camp next to Clearwater Lake. We didnt know what we were in for as we weaved down a single track through thick woods. The woods opened up and the lake came into view. We set up camp in a totally deserted campsite on the lake and there was only one thing on our minds...fishing.

I was in after the third cast and the boys started celebrating, expecting a whopper to provide our first uncanned meal in days. It weighed in at 30g and I quickly released it before Keith could turn it into pate. It was the first catch of the tour and they can definitely only get bigger. We had to settle for tinned tuna beside the fire while trying to dry our wet kit.
The cold front truely set in over us that night. I woke up in the middle of the night to a noise I wasn't too familiar with. It was very close, with a clitter clatter type of sound. All I had to do was roll over to realise it was Keith's teeth chattering inside his head. He smiled at me and simply said, "Morning chom". The surrounding mountains were covered in snow and unfortunately for us we knew the only way forward was up.
We rode to any kind of sunlight over the first few kms just to try and thaw out. Hands and toes had gone numb and even though any downhill was fun it made the cold even worse. The top of Richmond Pass came pretty slowly but the view was all worth it. Wilderness as far as we could see. The downhill track that followed was our best by far. 5 kms of tight single track then at least 10 kms of jeep track got us down to Seeley Lake.
We still had a way to go to the bustling metropolis of Ovando, population 50, but it was 53 tonight. We bee-lined for the local bar in Ovando and within a few minutes Keith had made friends with a local, Jeff, who kindly offered his front lawn for us to camp on, although it took a while for us to get what he was saying through the slurs, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.
The tents were up in minutes and Jeff even offered up his bathroom for us to use. Now you must understand that a bathroom and shower have become like gold to us. After half an hour showers each, we settled down in the marquee (Mine and Keith's tent) to dorritos and ranch sauce. Classy.
The cold got us again that night and we woke up to frost on the grass. Keith decided to take matters into his own hands and the gas was burning in the tent before i could get out of my sleeping bag. This became the standard from then on. We'll see how long the tent lasts. After a huge breakfast and at least 4 cups of coffee each at the Stray Bullet we left Ovando with the goal of getting over two of our biggest climbs and getting to Lost Horse Creek. The sun was finally out and we were soon stripping off layers. Our whole tempo changed and the boys were chewing up kms. After a quick pitstop in Lincoln we pushed onward and upward to Poorman's Pass. It was the steepest pass we'd come up against, but mountain goat Cam was up there and out of sight within minutes. Keith and I pushed and sweated it out. On the climb we met Gill who promised us hot tea if we got to her ranch in Lost Horse Road. With the reward on the line the last 20 kms flew by and we pulled into Sunny Ridge Ranch to get that tea, and hopefully a hot shower and place to kip. The hot tea and pie were a treat and soon all kinds of comments were being dropped to try and get a roof over our heads that night. Gill didn't catch our drift and we ended up tenting it up at the bottom of the ranch.
We were frozen again when the sun came up. Packing tents and kit without feeling in your fingers can be tough. Helena was our next stop on the map and the route led us through thick forest and rough roads. The usually quiet roads were busy with ATV's and trucks and gunshots echoed throughout the valley. Elk hunting season had just opened so we quickly put on our brightest jackets and blasted the portable speaker.
We've cracked it passed the 1000 km mark and have made it to Butte, Montana. We wanted to be further south but the riding has been tougher than we expected. From talking to other cyclists who have completed the Divide trail they say that the Montana stretch is the hardest. Its another 100 km day tomorrow and we hope to be in Elkhorn Springs asap.

The Boys are Back in Town

'Guess who just got back today? Those wild-eyed boys that had been away' - Thin Lizzy

The boys are back in Bigfork and are gearing up for the next 3750 kms. The unscheduled week off has put us behind a bit but it was totally worth it. Somehow all the plans came together and with Cam driving from San Francisco, me coming from Denver and Keith coming from Burning Man in Nevada we managed to meet up in Missoula, pack up and head out.

The next few days will be in Montana backcountry heading East then South towards Seeley Lake. We plan to be in Polaris by next Monday, which means its a 630 km trek in 7 days, it'll be tough but Keith's stories from Burning Man will definitely keep us entertained.

There have been weather reports saying that a cold front might be coming down from Canada this week. The last cold front brought 4 inches of snow to the mountains in Montana so lets hope we're long gone by the time it rolls in.

Ride on!

Thin Lizzy - The Boys Are Back In Town: http://youtu.be/SGZqDzb__bw